Extraordinary
by carlizzlerose
Summary: But the sun rose eventually, as it blazed, as it set. July 31, 1991 came and went. And as it went, Harry James Potter was left feeling particularly ordinary.


_"Someone's deciding whether or not to steal_

_He opens a window just to feel the chill_

_He hears that outside a small boy just started to cry_

'_Cause it's his turn but his brother won't let him try"_

_Eet – Regina Spektor_

* * *

Harry James Potter woke on the morning of his eleventh birthday feeling particularly extraordinary. Now, it wasn't so much that Harry usually felt extraordinary and today he simply felt more so, not at all. He tended to leave that confidence up to his cousin Dudley, whom Harry assumed was upstairs, snoring loudly in his bed. After all, it may have been morning, but it was very very early morning.

Harry enjoyed the very very early morning, though his cousin did not, nor his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon. It was quiet. Empty. If the six billion lives were pens and each new day was a fresh page in history, the stories of the day were just getting started. So early in the morning, the page was still crisp and strong. Soon, the ears would bend, the edges tear, and the clean cursive writing of the patient would turn into the messy scrawl of the bitter. But so early, it was smooth, it was calm, the pens were slow.

Sometimes, Harry wondered if anyone at all saw his tale on the page with all the others. He assumed, with so bland of a shade, the color of his life would become the shadow to the rest, the gray that fades behind the reds and purples and yellows and greens of those who could do something more with the bold. He never prided himself on being that sort of significant, making such a noticeable impact that people would run their finger along his disorganized penmanship and turn the page wondering where the story would go next. He was content on being the shadow if it meant he could stay out of bad light. It was better than what was possible, he supposed. He supposed this only on encouraging days.

But still, on the rarest of occasions the young Potter let himself feel special, he let himself dream. He let himself hope that maybe when he woke in the morning some far off relative with an ancient name he must have heard countless times as a kid that had since decomposed to a scarce echo his ears over the passing years would come and whisk him away to a happy place. Any place, any other place would be better than this. Harry wouldn't dare assume he was meant for anything important, but on days like this when all he could do to stop from bursting was allow himself that small inkling of honesty, he had to admit that he _wanted_ to be something more than this, to do something exciting with his life. Maybe just once, he could find a way to prove that he was significant, show everyone that he could be more than Dudley's walking punching bag, shoved like storage beneath the staircase nightly.

And maybe that was naïve, maybe his dreams were in vain. But it didn't stop them from happening. Not on days, as said, as assumedly important as this. Days that weren't his 4015th could be spent on being "Just Harry", the strange boy who could do strange things when something bothered him, the kid no one wanted as their friend, who wore the baggy clothes and spent more sitting alone than he was almost sure any of the other children had combined.

Today, he would believe.

But the sun rose eventually, as it blazed, as it set.

Day 4015 came and went. And as it went, Harry James Potter was left feeling particularly ordinary.

As he finally drifted off to sleep well into day 4016, he couldn't help but wonder hopelessly if something had gone wrong with the course of his life, if somewhere and sometime someone had screwed up and because of that he was missing out on something that truly could have been extraordinary.

He sighed and he shifted, and somewhere deep in the depths of his mind, a friendly voice reminded him not to dwell on dreams and forget to live, which he found, as a passing remark before the darkness overtook him, rather good advice.

* * *

AN: Alright so I know that wasn't much by way of actual insight into what this is going to be, but I hope it was enticing enough so far as prologues go. And we'll just have to see where this takes us... thanks for reading!


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